Two Story Town
by fetch-thranduilion
Summary: Eldarion gets transported to 21stcentury Endorville, USA, which is populated by alternate versions of people he knows or has heard of in legends. All he wants to do is go home...and play electric guitar in Maglor's band..and crush on Eowyn's daughter...
1. Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part One

Two Story Town 

Chapter One: Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part One

"_Take me away/To a place I've been/In another life/ In another world/…./Look behind the mirror/I'm lost in the twilight hall/Once I'll be back for a moment in time/ It's when the mirror's/ Falling down…"-_Blind Guardian

For someone who'd been feeling sleepy all day, Eldarion was really quite awake in the middle of the night. Everyone else in Caras Galadhon had already gone to bed, refreshing themselves for the long journey to Imladris they would begin in the morning. Only the half-elf boy remained awake, a victim of the insomnia of the hectic mind. His day had been unusually brain-numbing; any day with his great-grandfather was, especially now that his great-grandmother had departed for other lands. Lord Celeborn and most of his household would leave the Golden Wood for ever the next day, choosing not to live in a place so full of the memories of the Lady they had lost. In a generous gesture, the King and Queen of Gondor had sent many of their own court to help with the endeavor, including the fourteen-year-old Prince. They thought getting out of Gondor for a time would be good for their son. They thought he would learn about his elven heritage. They thought it would be an interesting experience.

Eldarion lay in the dark, miserable and restless. Spending time with Elves always made him restless, searching for a part of himself that didn't quite exist, an Elvishness that always eluded him. His eyes were better than most humans', but not as sharp as Elves'. His hearing was keen for a Follower's, but deaf for a Firstborn's. His right ear was rounded; his left ear tapered to a point. _Half-elf_, Eldarion would think, looking in the mirror on his bedchamber wall. _Ha ha. Iluvatar's up there laughing at me. _It wasn't that he wanted to **be** an Elf. He just didn't like feeling inferior.

He stood up, lanky angles straightening and stretching. His mother's slender build plus his father's long shanks made for a rather awkward adolescent structure. In Gondor, whenever he couldn't sleep, he would always take a walk. The night air and the cool stone buildings gleaming faintly in the moonlight made for a peaceful setting, and he could usually relax enough to fall right asleep. But this was Lothlorien. He barely knew his way around. Stepping lightly so as not to step on any slumbering Elves, Eldarion gingerly made his way to the hole in the talan and climbed down.

The moon shone silver on the forest floor, lighting his path as he roamed aimlessly, mind racing along. He missed Minas Tirith, his friends, his parents. The pace in Lorien was easy, relaxed. Eldarion needed things to constantly be happening. There was always something to do in the White City. Everyone was busy there…including his parents. He ruefully recalled how he had taken his leave of them: his mother had hugged him, kissed him on both cheeks, then ran off to see why the Lady Eowyn was making such a racket in the kitchen. His father had clapped him on the shoulder and told him the palantir was focused on Lothlorien, in case anything should happen. Then he too was off, peasants standing in line to bring complaints and messages to their King. _If he's been watching, it's been the most boring thing he'll ever see, _thought Eldarion. _Nothing but Celeborn, and boxes, and leaves._

He looked up and saw that his wandering feet had taken him to a place he had never been before. To his left, a pool of water glimmered faintly. Straight ahead, a basin lay sunken in a pedestal. _Galadriel's mirror,_ he realized. _Empty now, ever since…she left. I guess it wouldn't work now anyway._

Still, it fascinated him. _I wonder…could I see the City? What everyone's doing? Or could I see the past, the War of the Ring? I'd like to know what Frodo looked like. And then, even further back….I wonder if Luthien really looked like my mom._

Without knowing exactly what he was doing, he stooped and picked up from among the fallen leaves a pitcher, dipping it into the crystal waters of the pool. _It couldn't hurt to try it out,_ he reasoned. _If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. And if it does…who knows what I'll see? Morgoth, Numenor, Turin Turambar, Gandalf…me. Me as King? I wonder if I'll make a good King. I wonder if I'll have a son, and if I'll send him away with just a pat on the shoulder because I'm too busy to say anything meaningful._

He filled the basin with water, heart beginning to hammer a little. The future suddenly seemed frightening to him, the past too broad to fully comprehend. "Show me my parents," he whispered, begging whatever latent spirits might still be dwelling in the mirror. "If you still work…that's all I want to see, really." He leaned over and looked in.

A face peered back at him, youthful and curious but disappointed. "Just my reflection," he muttered, but as he spoke the surface of the water darkened, rippled, and he found himself indeed looking at the two people the world knew as King and Queen of Gondor but he called other names.

"Dad?…Mom?" His father's hair was short and his face cleanshaven, but unmistakable. He and Eldarion's mother were strangely attired, and they sat in an alien room, lit by lamps with no discernable flames.

Eldarion leaned closer to the pool to get a better look at the room. The white jewel he wore around his neck swung forward and lightly brushed the surface of the water. Instantly the whole picture went black, and the water began to smoke. Eldarion tried to step back, but some invisible force had a hold of him and sent him moving still forward. He barely had time to take a breath before toppling headfirst into the Mirror, feet knocked out from under him.

He was drowning in a black hole, sputtering and flailing out as he spun head-over-heels in the pitch-dark water. The Mirror seemed to have grown, and he was immersed in its inky depths, uncertain as to which way was up and coughing in panic and confusion. Dimly he became aware of a light dancing in front of his eyes. He wildly kicked towards it, moving sluggishly through the water for all his efforts. Then suddenly he had found the surface, and his head exploded out of the water, eyes closed as he spat and choked on the dark liquid.

"Hey, you! Get out of my pool!"

Blinking and still sputtering a bit, Eldarion opened his eyes. He was not at the Mirror any more. Not even close. The body of water in which he now tread was large and square, with smooth sides made of some hard unfamiliar surface. The water tasted funny, too: it had a tang to it not present in the waters of Middle-earth. Swiping shaggy bangs out of his eyes, Eldarion looked up at the girl who'd yelled at him.

She stood on the threshold of a largish building made out of red bricks, in a door that slid to one side to open. Her plaid, pleated skirt barely reached her fingertips and her jacket was made of a leather darker than he had ever seen, but what caught his attention most was her hair. It was shorter than any girl's hair he knew- and any boy's too, for that matter. It was also spiky and bright purple.

Her eyebrows were brown, though, and she had one cocked in annoyance as she crossed her arms and yelled at him again.

"What's the matter, you deaf or something? I said get out! We don't allow strangers to swim here, and if you're friends with the Benmirs next door, they're on my list, buddy! Only Carey and his friends are allowed!"

"Sorry," Eldarion yelled back, swimming over to the side and thinking fast despite all the confusing new things around him. "I guess I fell in."

"Huh?" The girl clapped a hand to her forehead. "Crap. You don't even speak English. You haven't got a clue what I'm saying."

"Yes I do!" retorted Eldarion as he clambered out of the pool, then realized something. The purple-haired girl **was** speaking a different language, not Sindarin or Westron or even Quenya (of which his fluency was limited), but he could somehow understand her. When he talked, however, he was answering in Westron. _I don't get it,_ he thought. _I don't get anything! Obviously I'm not in Middle-earth anymore, at least not any part of Middle-earth I've ever heard of. But I can understand the language? I just don't get it…can I speak her language?_

"I…I do too know what you're saying. But I **am**…not from here." _Was that right? I spoke it, didn't I? I spoke…Anglush or whatever. English._

The girl snorted, a very unladylike gesture that shocked him, but only mildly in comparison to the other surprises. "Duh. What, are you a runaway from the Renaissance Fair or something? I mean, what are you wearing?" She sighed. "Forget it. Just get out."

Eldarion did a courteous little bow. "Yes, ma'am. Sorry to disturb you. It shan't happen again." Eager to be gone, he jogged past her around the building and onto what he supposed was a road, then screamed in spite of himself as something barreled past, blinding him with a brilliant light and nearly deafening him with a piercing cry. He lost his balance in shock and fell, quite unelvishly, onto the grass in front of the girl's house.

She appeared behind him, having heard both the noise and his startled yell. "Yeah, genius, that's why they tell you to look both ways before crossing the street. You could get hit by a freakin' car."

Eldarion couldn't understand all of what she said, but he could tell by her tone she'd insulted him. "I told you I was a foreigner. How was I supposed to know the animals here moved that fast?"

"Now you're just kidding around with me. Don't play dumb; you're in no position to act like that. I could call the cops on you." She pointed at him. "But I won't. Not unless you don't get off the property in ten seconds. Ten."

Eldarion stood still, not sure what she was counting for. "Um, what?"

"You heard me. Nine. Eight."

"Yes, but I didn't understand."

"Seven. Six. Five."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Four. Three."

"I am a prince, you know, and I order you to stop and tell me what's going on." He regretted it the instant it left his mouth. People who flaunted their status and used it to bully others had always disgusted him, and here he was, acting like a total snob. "Sorry."

"Two. One." She looked at him. "Zero. Go."

He didn't move. The purple-haired girl looked at him quizzically; her clear blue eyes grew wide. "Oh my God. You really don't have anywhere to go, do you? You really are lost." Her gaze softened a little.

"I told you. I arrived here…rather suddenly and against my will. I don't have any clue what I'm doing here, I want to go back where I was before, and I apologize for pulling rank on you. I want to get as far from here as possible, preferably Gondor. Can you help me?" Eldarion added the question halfheartedly, not sure it would do any good but needing all the assistance he could get.

"So what you're saying is, you just moved here, you didn't want to, so you're running away in protest? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" The girl fiddled thoughtfully with her ear, and Eldarion realized she had two small gold hoops sticking through each lobe. _Yuck,_ he thought, then focused on what she'd said.

He pursed his lips. "Yes," he replied finally, "I'm a runaway."

Surprisingly, she seemed to like his answer. "Cool. Rebelling against the system, huh? Nice. You coulda been a little more prepared, though. I mean, what have you been eating? And how far have you come?"

"A very long way," Eldarion answered truthfully, ignoring the food question as all that had entered his stomach recently was some of her pool's strange-tasting water.

"Huh. Well then, guess you need someplace to stay, vagabond boy. At least you made it further than the kid next door-who has every reason to run away, too. I mean, look!"

Eldarion looked. A sign in front of the house to the right said "Beware of Dog," only someone had scratched out "Dog" and written "Children" in messy black ink. "I..ah..see."

"Yeah. Not counting the dog, cuz there is a dog, there's seven kids in that family, the Benmirs, and they're all nuts. They think that just because their dad is this fancypants, big-deal jeweler they can get away with anything. But their dad's the nuttiest one. Anyway, Carey-that's the kid's name, or his nickname anyway, his real name's some huge unpronounceable thing-one of his older brothers taught him to drive, even though Carey's just fourteen, you know? Well, he's fifteen now, but anyway last year he goes to try the car out, and he wrecks it in—are you ready for this- their freakin' **garage!** And his brothers are laughin', well, four of 'em are, anyway: the oldest was freaking out and one other's always off in la-la poet land with his garage band, but Carey's totally flipping out so we hid him here. Figured the last place anybody'd look would be next door. Turns out it was the first place. Oh well. But we do know how to hide kids here, me an' Andre. Andre's my brother. We're twins. Like two of the idiots next door."

Eldarion blinked, then said slowly, "Um…why are you telling me all this?"

"Oh. Huh. I don't know." The girl laughed suddenly. "Sorry. One minute I'm yelling at you GET OUT and the next I'm telling you the story of my life! Jeez! Like you care."

"It was…very interesting. But I just don't see the point."

"The point? Oh, the **point.** Yeah. The point is, you can stay here tonight. In Andre's room. That's where we put Carey. He's cool with that sorta stuff; nothing phases him. Andre, I mean. Not Carey. Carey's a hothead. But there I go again. What is wrong with me?"

_I think you like this Carey Benmir, that's what,_ Eldarion commented in his mind as he sifted through her response to get the general message. He got it. "Well, all right, if your parents don't mind…"

"Mind?" The girl laughed again, almost scoffingly. "Dude, they won't even **know.** They're out at some movie, won't be back till eleven at least. Score one for me if I can hide you for a night. They think they know everything, but I got 'em beat. Usually. You just can't let them see you. Especially my dad; he's a counselor, and he'll start analyzing you inside and out first glimpse he gets of you. My mom, though, will probably just impale you. She fences."

Eldarion only understood two parts of the sentence. "I fence. But I don't want to go sneaking around someone's…"

"You won't be sneaking! You're a guest. Most Honored Guest, Mister….what did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't. It's Eldarion. Eldarion Telcontar, at your service, milady." He bowed again.

She took his right hand and shook it, startling him for a second. "Ruki Stewart. Let's get you bunked!"

"Until the bulb burns out, it's going to do that every time you flip the switch," Andre Stewart told Eldarion in a monotone from where he lay on the bottom bunk of his bed.

Eldarion flipped the switch on the wall. All of the lights in Andre's room winked out. He flipped the switch again. They came back on. "How does it work?" he asked, fascinated. "Magic?"

"Electricity. Duh. Don't you have electricity at your house?"

"No."

"Do you live in a barn or something?" Andre, though his words were incredulous, still managed to sound bored. Eldarion wondered vaguely how he could be the twin of someone like Ruki.

"No, I live in a castle. A tower, really. It' s a little hard to describe. A city."

"Naturally. You probably don't have indoor plumbing either."

"Indoor what?"

"Toilets. Ruki showed you the bathroom, didn't she?"

"Yes, and I wondered how you carried the bathwater from your artificial lake all the way up those stairs to the bathtub."

Andre sighed. "Forget it. Just turn the light out and go to bed. My parents will be home soon."

Eldarion flipped the switch one last time. "Incredible," he muttered to himself as darkness filled the room. "I wonder if we could do that in Minas Tirith." He felt his way to the ladder of the bunk bed and climbed up. "Good night, Andre. Thanks for letting me have the top bunk of the barracks."

"It's not a barracks. Go to sleep. You have to leave here before my parents wake up in the morning."

"Don't worry. I will." _And where will I go? Jump into the water and hope it takes me home? Wander this world aimlessly, saying, "Could someone please point me in the direction of Gondor?" Try to contact someone—how?_

"I'll find a way," he whispered. "Everything will be fine. It'll be…cool."

But that was only his way of telling himself not to cry.

Eldarion woke later in the night and found he had a problem. He lay in the dark for five minutes, trying to think of something else, but when the problem didn't go away he swung his torso down over the side of the bed and, as his pendant bumped into his nose, poked the sleeping Andre in the arm. When the boy grumpily awoke, Eldarion found Ruki's brother did look a little like her-when he scowled. In fact, if Andre's red-blond hair didn't flop into his face and was purple, it would be a near-perfect match.

"Wha' is it? 'Sit it time for you to leave? Go."

"No. Andre…where did you say the outhouse was?"

"The **bathroom **is the second door down the hall to the left. If you need further instructions, you walk in,…use…the shiny white thing, then push the lever. There will be a big scary noise. Then you wash your hands in the sink by turning the little plastic knobs and go back to bed. Good luck." It was remarkable how Andre could deliver such a sarcastic speech without a trace of emotion in his voice. Andre rolled over, back to Eldarion. "Oh, and my parents are probably home."

"I'll be careful." Stealthily Eldarion crept out of the room and followed Andre's instructions to the letter. "So that's indoor plumbing," Eldarion remarked, appraising the white chairlike object and watching. "Very nice. Clean. Less disgusting work for the servants." Just to be certain he understood, or sort of understood, how the contraption worked, he pushed the silver lever again. "The water swirls around and…cleans it out. I wonder where the pipe goes?"

Satisfied with his little adventure into the world of sanitary waste disposal, except maybe for the matter of where the pipe led, Eldarion left the bathroom. He took about two steps before his half-elf ears alerted him of movement. Quickly he turned around and was nearly blinded by someone shining a portably light in his face.

"Aah!"

"Hey! Who're you!"

Eldarion blinked, clearing his vision of dots and specks. A woman clad in garments similar to those Andre had changed into prior to retiring for the night stood shining a light at him. She looked very very surprised…and very very familiar. He gasped incoherently for a couple of seconds as she roughly grabbed his arm, shaking her long blond hair out of her face as she did so.

"La…La…Lady Eowyn!"

a/n: Hey, look, it's me, starting another story before finishing the post of the last one. Oh well. I can manage two. Anyway, hi and thanks for reading! I have a lot of disclaimers/pseudo-disclaimers for this story:

Many of the characters are either taken directly from or inspired by the works of JRR Tolkien

The plot for this story was inspired by the (excellent) fanfics "Hour of Our Meeting" and "A Feanorian Christmas" (see my Favorites for links; if they aren't both there, they should be)

I ripped the name "Ruki" (but not the entire character…it's a different girl with the same sort of punk streak) from Digimon Tamers

"Andre" is the name of the lead guitarist for Blind Guardian (the lead singer's name is in my own, original, not-a-fanfic-in-(almost)-any-way-shape-or-form story which will probably never see publication, Internet or otherwise, due to how long it's taking me to finish, but nobody cares about that…Ruki's babbling streak is based on my author's notes tendencies)

When I draw these characters (and I do a lot of that), the drawing style (and I guess a little of the plot too) is based on the manga "The First King Adventure"

I did not invent cars, I did not discover electricity, and I did not invent indoor plumbing.

I think that's it for now, except…I have a bunch of chapters written/planned so far for this, but I need songs to title the "Parts" with (there's three chapters per part, it makes more sense if my pictures are included but hey, doesn't work that way) and things for Eldarion to do/experience. So…where should he go? What should he do? Should Ruki dye her hair a different color? Should she dye Eldarion's hair a different color? Drop a review and give me your ideas! I am open to suggestions! (Well, most anyway…) Thanks again for reading, and I hope you come back. 


	2. Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part Two

Two Story Town 

Chapter Two: Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part Two

It was hard to tell which was purpler, Ruki's hair or Eowyn's face.

"Let me get this straight," the woman said, arms folded as she paced the floor in front of the table where the children, including Eldarion, sat. "You don't know who he is or where he came from or what he's doing here, but you not only didn't have him arrested, you let him in the house! **While we were out!"**

"I was trying to be nice," Ruki replied dully. "You always say I'm not nice enough."

"Being nice and being stupid are not the same thing. You're lucky this kid turned out to be okay! He could have killed you both, or robbed us, or set the house on fire…" Eowyn's rant was interrupted by her husband as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Eowyn, calm down," said the Lord Faramir, not looking very regal in red striped night-garments. "Yelling at them won't change what's happened. The real priority is the boy. What did you say your name was?"

"Eldarion Telcontar. You know me, Lord Faramir. You work for my father." Eldarion was more confused than he'd thought it was possible to be. Ruki and Andre's parents looked like, acted like, and were called Eowyn and Faramir. But they showed no signs of recognizing Eldarion or feeling lost in this alien world. They even spoke English. In addition, in Middle-earth, they had no children. So who were Ruki and Andre Stewart? _I guess…it's just a coincidence?_ Eldarion wondered. _A really far-flung, ridiculous coincidence?_

_But, if they don't know me, what will they do with me?_

Faramir seemed to have ignored Eldarion's last two sentences to him; he was paging through a large paper-bound book containing half yellow pages and half white pages. "Tel…Tel…Teleri…no, that's too far forward…Tel…Telcontar. Found it. 1379 Stoneland Road, 555-4882. Is that where you live?"

_No,_ thought Eldarion; but he said nothing, unsure why Faramir was rattling off random numbers out of the book. It had something to do with his surname, although why that would be coupled with numbers or a road called Stoneland he had no clue. He glanced at Ruki to see if she understood what was going on; she didn't return his look, her eyes downcast as she bit her lip. For someone who supposedly supported rebellion, she certainly appeared subdued. Finding himself feeling sorry for her, he turned to Eowyn and said, "My lady, please don't punish Ruki. It was my choice to stay here, and she should not be blamed for another's actions."

Ruki looked up. "Huh?" Eowyn smirked a bit but said nothing, watching Faramir as he fiddled with a strange black device, pressing buttons with his finger. It made beeping noises as he punched the buttons in and muttered "Five…five…five…four…eight…eight…two." He put the device to his ear, waited, then spoke again. "Hello, is this Mr. Telcontar? Yes, good, my name is Faramir Stewart…yes, I know it's two in the morning, but I believe your son Eldarion is at my house…yes, Mr. Telcontar, he's fine, my daughter took him in without telling anyone…of course you can speak to him." Faramir handed the device to Eldarion, saying, "It's your father."

_What's my father?_ thought Eldarion as he held the device to his ear. "Wrong way," Andre remarked in his slightly sarcastic monotone. Eldarion turned the device around, then gasped, startled.

His father's voice was coming out of it.

"Hello? Eldarion? Are you there?" came the voice of Aragorn son of Arathorn.

"…I…It's me, Ada," Eldarion stammered. "Wh-where are you?"  
"Oh, thank God!….Where do you think? At home, worried sick about you! Why did you run off? You said your new school was going fine. Did something happen that you didn't tell us? Or are you still mad at us about the move?"

"I…I'm not mad." His father was speaking "English" too. What sort of magic was doing this, transmitting his voice? Eldarion fell into Westron, needing to tell his father everything. "Look, I fell in Galadriel's mirror and now I'm stuck in this crazy place and you've got to come to Lorien right now and help me get back, and Eowyn and Faramir are here too only they don't know me and they've got kids and one of them has purple hair and I don't know how this works but I just want to go home, Ada!"

"Eldarion? Eldarion? Are you still there? The reception's fuzzy; I can't understand you. Look, where are you? I'll come get you right away." More English. Despite himself, Eldarion felt his eyes beginning to well up.

"I don't know where I am!" he cried in English, scared and tired and sick for now of strangeness. "I don't know anything anymore!"

Faramir put a comforting hand on his shoulder and took the device back. "Mr. Telcontar? It's Faramir Stewart. I found your address in the phone book; I'll drive Eldarion home right away. He's had a long night, and I'm sure you have too. Yes, Mr. Telcontar, it' s no problem. You're welcome. No, I couldn't accept any reward money, I'm just glad for you that he's safe and sound. We'll be there in about twenty minutes. Good-night." Faramir pressed another button and put the device down. "Let's go, Eldarion. The car is in the garage."

"Go where?" Eldarion asked dumbly, wiping his face and hoping for some reason that Ruki didn't see him crying. Men in Gondor weren't usually ashamed to cry, it was a sign that they cared about things, but in this alien world in the face of uncertain events it made Eldarion feel very small and alone.

"You know where. To your home. Now come on." Faramir took his hand and led him away. Eldarion looked over his shoulder at Ruki and Andre as he went through a door. "Good-bye," he called. "Thanks." He shut the door behind him and turned around. Faramir was sitting inside a blue metal contraption with wheels and doors; Eldarion got in, trying to look like he knew what he was doing. Whatever was about to happen, he was determined to take it in stride.

"Buckle your seatbelt," Faramir told him absently, turning a key and pressing some buttons. As the contraption began to vibrate, Eldarion grabbed the canvas strap and fastened it like he saw Faramir do on his own seat. _What's going to happen that we need to be strapped in for?_ he thought apprehensively. _How is being attached to a chair in a vibrating metal thing going to get me home?_

_Where do they think "home" is, anyway? I can't really…somehow…someway…is something going to happen that will take me back to Gondor?_

Something happened, all right. The metal contraption began to move. Eldarion started to yell, then stopped when he realized Faramir must somehow be making it work. _I have to relax,_ he told himself. _ No matter what happens next, I have to be…cool. I am a prince of Gondor, the heir to the throne. It's about time I acted it and stopped behaving like some gaping baby. Relax, enjoy it. This moving thing is neat. We're going fast, I think. Really fast…_ He realized the animal that had nearly run him over earlier hadn't been an animal at all, but something akin to what he now was riding in. What had Faramir and Ruki called it? He was in…a car. _That's it. Car. Here I am, cool, in a car, with a Faramir who speaks some language called English, after talking to my father through a black object of some unknown material, heading "home," wherever "home" is. Frodo Baggins had nothing on me. Beren Erchamion was an amateur. I am an adventurer!_

_I am totally lost._

Faramir didn't speak, just focused on operating the car. Eldarion watched, fascinated, filing the information away alongside the bunk bed, the lightswitch, and the indoor plumbing. The car was by far the most useful, he decided. Except maybe for the indoor plumbing.

He began to notice the roads were marked with signs, and when the car turned onto a street marked "Stoneland," Eldarion knew he wasn't going back to Gondor after all. If not, though…who would be waiting for him when they stopped? **Would** anyone be waiting? What was his father doing right now? Frantically searching with the palantir? How had they communicated through the black device?

The car stopped in front of a white stone dwelling with "1379" on a post in the yard. "Here we are," said Faramir. "Out you go, Eldarion. And don't run away from home again. It's dangerous." He leaned over and unfastened Eldarion's restraint, the boy being uncertain as to just how it worked. Eldarion did, however, manage to open the car door all by himself, and as the door of the building opened he raced towards it upon seeing who was inside. He screamed in English, his mind being full of it.

"Father! Mother! You're here!"

Aragorn caught and hugged him close; Arwen embraced both of them. 'Thank you," she called to Faramir. "Thank you so much!"

"Not at all," Faramir shouted in reply, then started the car back up and left. Eldarion was crying again, but this time he didn't care. "You're here… you're here… you're here…" he repeated over and over. His parents didn't look quite right; in fact, they looked exactly as he had seen them in the Mirror. He wasn't in Gondor, he knew that. And as his parents took him up some stairs to his room, hugging and kissing and scolding him in turn, and put him in the bed that stood in the corner, he knew they weren't King and Queen of Gondor, either. They were like Eowyn and Faramir had been: a part of this world, knowing what everything was and oblivious to Middle-earth.

Eldarion went to bed smiling anyway. It wasn't really his home, but they still knew they were his parents, and for now that was good enough.

a/n: Well hello again. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you Mirowood for your review…we talked about your question already so that's that.

Now that I think I've established that there will be Middle-earth people featured in 21st-century America, who does everybody want to see? I already know who the main characters will be, but I need cameos! So…anyone from LOTR or the Silmarillion is fair game! Send me your preferences! (Yes, even the Silmarillion…I've already mentioned some characters. See if you can find them!) I will try to incorporate as many as is humanly possible! I need to stop using exclamation points and just use periods like a normal person! (wait, never mind, I'm not a normal person)

A note: I am now a member of deviantART, so if you type in "fetch-thranduilion. you should get my stuff…as of my writing this, I'm loading a picture from my musical. The Two Story Town drawings are coming shortly, along with (maybe) some stuff from my own original story…but I haven't drawn anything good for that lately/ever.

Oh, and I don't know if there is actually anyone whose phone number is 555-4882, and I don't want to call to find out. I don't even know what state or area code that would be.

See you all in Chapter 3, which I can say right now is a rather uneventful but necessary chapter. You have been warned. It's boring. But at least it's short.

Till then…bye.


	3. Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part Three

Chapter Three: Lost in the Twilight Hall, Part Three

An unearthly, grating, annoyingly high-pitched noise woke Eldarion up from a dream he'd been having about a purple-haired Eowyn throwing mirrors around while he rode in a car being driven tag-team by Andre and Ruki. This sound repeated itself multiple times, and as he looked groggily around he realized it was coming from a little box with glowing numbers on it sitting on the table next to his bed. He picked it up and shook it, noting that it was tethered to the wall for some reason. Yanking on the rope, he threw the whole contraption across the room, where it hit a door in the far wall with a loud thud. The disturbing noise, however, stopped. _What,_ he asked himself, _was that all about?_ He got out of bed and walked across the room the examine the box more closely. Picking it up and turning it over in his hands, he pressed its multiple buttons to no effects. The luminous numbers on the side had disappeared, too.

As Eldarion stood there puzzling, his mother opened the door on the other side of his room and peered in, turning on the lights by flipping the switch. "Are you all right? What was that noise?…Why are you holding the clock?"

"It was annoying me. It woke me up." Eldarion put it back on the little table. Arwen smiled a little patronizingly. "Ha ha, Mr. Sleepy. Get dressed for school, now. Unless….you'd rather not go today? Your father and I will understand if you want to just stay home and explain what's wrong."

_Everything's wrong, _thought Eldarion, _and there is nothing in the world I would love more than to have stayed home._ He was tempted to accept her offer and explain everything, to say that she wasn't really his mother, that his mother was in at least another country if not another world altogether, but a new thought struck him and he refrained from speaking. This Arwen and Aragorn also apparently had a son named Eldarion who looked exactly like him. Where was that Eldarion? Still roaming the streets, run away from home? Or even…he got a chill as he imagined someone else flying out of the Mirror and into Middle-earth, someone from this world of cars and noises and millions of depressable buttons. He couldn't say who he was without an explanation of where the other Eldarion had gotten to. These people thought they had their son back. And…it would still look like his parents, grieving and worrying about some other child. He couldn't cause his parents pain, not on this or any other world. So. He would play the part., and go wherever Eldarion Telcontar the native English-speaker went this time of day…_this ridiculously early time of day_, he added, noting how little sun was peering in through the strange, horizontally slitted drapes. And while he acted, he would search for the other Eldarion and also for any clues or methods for getting himself home. Although he didn't want to admit it, there was a small part of himself that was looking forward to seeing more of this world. He was stuck here for now; he might as well learn as much as he could. And as unfamiliar and unfriendly as this place sometimes felt, even his most grounded side had to admit it was a lot more interesting than Lothlorien. Once he got used to it, it might even be fun. He'd wanted something to happen and gotten his wish; it would be stupid not to take advantage of it.

He smiled at Arwen. "I'll go to school."

"You're not wearing that, are you?" asked his father as Eldarion entered what he took to be the eating area, still clad in his Gondorian tunic and pants. "Where did you get those, anyway?"

"I couldn't find anything else," Eldarion replied, assessing the kitchen and concluding meals here were self-serve. For the first time, he was truly sorry he'd been raised in a castle: he didn't know how to cook. Servants had done most of the work, and Eldarion had been taught to appreciate that, but he had never before taken it to the level of his feeling inferior. Now he found himself surrounded by pots and pans and feeling very stupid and ignorant indeed.

"Couldn't…you've got a whole closet," Aragorn responded, spreading what Eldarion recognized as butter from a tub onto a piece of toasted white bread. "Go back upstairs and pick something out. I'll pour some cereal while you change." Thankful that at least it sounded like his food problem had been solved, Eldarion made his way back to "his" room in search of new clothing. No chests of drawers were to be found. Finally he thought to open the door against which he had flung the clock and discovered many articles of clothing within. He selected a pair of blue trousers, pulling them on over his Middle-earth underclothes, red-and-purple shoes with soles made of some unidentifiable substance, and two shirts, a long-sleeved one and a short-sleeved one, wearing the latter like a tunic even though its hemline was shorter. Pulling his necklace out from under the collars, he turned around and discovered there was a mirror hanging on the wall that he'd overlooked before. Walking up to it, he assessed his reflection: a tall, pale, slender boy with rumpled chin-length brown hair, a small, slightly upturned nose, full lips, and large clear blue-grey eyes, wearing a sparkling white-silver pendant on a fine chain around his neck. That much was familiar; that much was the half-elf prince he knew, the boy with (he tucked his hair behind his ears for an instant, then shook it free) one ear pointed and the other rounded. That was the face he'd seen just before this whole thing had started. But in the clothes of this world, he looked just like Andre had, and Ruki, and his parents, and their parents: a part of this world, colorful and bizarre. He smiled wryly and touched the mirror, hoping absently that his hand would somehow slip through the surface and he'd be pulled back to the clearing in Lothlorien where he'd stood less than a day ago. Nothing happened, his fingers met the hard cool surface only, so he sighed and went back downstairs.

"Took you long enough," his father said as Eldarion reentered the kitchen and sat down in front of a bowl filled with the strangest, brightest food he'd ever seen. "What, did you get tangled up in your pants or something?"

"What exactly is this?" asked Eldarion, poking the surface of the food with his spoon. "Cold soup?"

"Come again?" asked Aragorn.

Eldarion realized this man's son probably knew exactly what the rainbow pellets floating in the white liquid was, so when he next opened his mouth it was just to stick a spoonful in. The food was almost unbearably sweet. Gagging, Eldarion forced himself to eat the whole thing. _If it looks unnatural, it'll taste unnatural,_ he decided. _I have to remember that._

He sat back in his chair as Arwen rushed in. "Eldarion? You're still here?...The bus is coming any minute! Here, quick, take your bookbag!" She thrust at him a large orange parcel closed by a strip of interlocking metal strips with a slider attached. He hoisted it onto his back. His mother and father both embraced him, Arwen kissing him on the cheek. "Have a good day," she told him as he opened the front door.

"I will," Eldarion replied, hoping he wasn't lying and looking out the door. Once he stepped out into that world, there was no telling what would happen to him. He was lost in a world with several parallels to his own, but nothing quite correct, with technology and materials very different from what he was used to. The customs were different, too…so was the language and the alphabet as well, he realized, looking at the runes on the "Stoneland" sign; even though he could read it he'd never seen those symbols before. There was no way he could possibly blend in perfectly, maybe even not at all.

Suddenly his fear dissolved, as he stood there on the threshold of the unknown. Somewhere out there was danger, it was true. There were things he'd never seen before and inventions that would surprise him. But there were also people like Ruki and Andre and his English-speaking parents: people who were willing to help him and put up with his ignorance. And all of the new and different aspects didn't have to be frightening; they were exciting, too. He was eager to see what other useful and fun things, like the car, this place had to offer.

His hand slid to his necklace, the Elven artifact he always wore, a gift from his mother. As long as he had this, he figured, his home would never leave him.

He squeezed it once, tightly, then took a deep breath and stepped.

a/n: Hi everyone! I'm back. Sorry it took so long; I had a lot of schoolwork and then my uploading privileges were temporarily suspended because I broke a rule by posting a script (my musical, which has since been removed and now resides elsewhere; see my bio for address…)

Yeah, so I have some reviews now! Hooray! Here are my responses:

Mirowood: Hey man…sorry about all the Silmarillion lectures over the phone. Hope you like this chapter as much as I liked your last one. And I swear I will stop writing you anonymous reviews when I want to tell you something. Next time I'll call!

BanbieBunny: Thanks for the hair color info! I really need to research the First Age more…I've read the Silmarillion three times and Unfinished Tales twice, but, um, yeah, there's more stuff out there I need to get my hands on. And your story is just so wonderful…I love it when people use the "Gap" joke…Anyway, I hope you enjoy my story. Yours was one of my inspirations to write this.

Neld: Alright, another Feanorion fan! Don't worry, the whole gang will be showing up soon…in fact, they've already been mentioned. Hint: It was in Chapter One. Yes, I have BIG plans for everyone's favorite psychopathic family…electric guitars and gothic clothing and art class and freak factory accidents…it's all good.

Yael3000: Are you who I think you are? If so…I would love to make this a book but for right now it's just a binder. Which you've seen. Is your story typed yet? (If you're not who I think you are…wow this is a small world. I'm really glad you liked my story and continue to read it…cause it's going to get weirder. Funnier? I can't tell….but I can tell you right now Eldarion is developing this tactless streak that gets him into all sorts of scrapes…he may not think they're funny but I do. Poor kid.)

Hope everybody has been having a good spring…I don't know about where you all live, but it's still COLD in my town! I hate living in one of the Most Overcast Cities in America. (Guess where I live and…get something. I don't know what yet. Faramir's car, maybe. He drives a Subaru Legacy.) (Mirowood, you can't guess. You know.) (same for yael3000)

See y'all in Chapter Four, the first one of my next song title…Eldarion meets the unluckiest boy in the world whose father isn't Feanor…and he figures out how a locker works. Yay for him.


	4. Who Knows, Part One

Well hello folks! I haven't updated this in a while….life is INSANE! I got a jump drive, then I broke it and lost all my typing, then came finals season…but it's summer now, so I should have more time to type. Anyway, here we have Eldarion again, stepping out of the door into who knows what…well, I know what as I just finished the outline for this story, if anyone cares, it's going to be fifteen chapters long total…ah, just read. Oh, and Eldarion's history teacher is based on (heck, IS) my 11th grade APA teacher, because he's quite a character in his own right. Yael3000: this is what's in store for you in a few years. The man actually does say "maturation wagon."

Oh, by the way, none of this is mine.

Chapter Four: Who Knows, Part One

_Why do you look so familiar/I could swear that I have seen your face before/I think I like that you seem sincere/I think I'd like to get to know you a little bit more/Who knows what could happen/Do what you do, just keep on laughing/One thing's true, there's always a brand-new day/I'm gonna live today like it's my last day…-Avril Lavigne_

Eldarion's problems began with that very first step out the door: he had no clue where to go. Determined to make it through the day on the sheer force of observation and logical deduction, he walked down the pathway that led to the road, noting that it too was made of a material foreign to him. Last night's experiences alone had been enough to show him that these people had substances available for their ready use which were lacking in Middle-earth. Unfamiliar textures were just something he would have to accept and hopefully (being a naturally curious person, for all his apprehensions) learn more about later, provided he was stuck here for a good while. That prospect seemed very likely.

Looking down the road, he spied several children about his age or older beginning to congregate around a post mounted a red octagon brilliantly emblazoned with the word "STOP." Eldarion headed towards them, seeing they all too carried "bookbags" like his—of which, he realized, he did not know the contents. Books, he assumed; it was certainly heavy enough.

He smiled at the other children as he reached them, but they only looked at him with bleary, tired eyes. "Freshies," one of them mumbled under his breath. Eldarion, not certain if he'd heard correctly, considered saying "I beg your pardon?" but decided against it. These people were not in talkative moods, so he would blend in and also remain silent.

A dull roar preceded the advent of a large yellow car-like object with "Endorville S.D" painted on the sides. The vehicle stopped, and a small door near the front opened. The teenagers fell zombie-like into line and boarded; Eldarion did the same, puzzled by the presence of the word "Endor": Middle-earth.

Upon entering the transport, Eldarion found himself with another problem: there was nowhere for him to sit. He walked down the long aisle, but every narrow green seat had at least one or two children already occupying it. Finally he found a vacant booth and sat. Sitting back, he put his bookbag on his lap. The yellow vehicle started moving again, and it was a much bumpier ride than riding in Faramir's car. Every groove in the road seemed magnified, but it didn't really bother Eldarion. He was used to horses, where the rider moved up and down with every step.

There were windows by the seats, just like in the car, so Eldarion amused himself by looking out the window as the contraption made two more stops and picked up several more teens, who all sat with their friends. At the final step, the vehicle was just pulling away when he spotted a lone figure dashing up the street, clutching a bookbag. "Someone's coming!" he yelled to the vehicle's driver. "Don't go yet!"

The transport stopped; the figure slipped and fell in a mud puddle, then picked itself up again and boarded. "My friend's coming too," the mud-spattered boy said, climbing on. "Don't go."

The driver shrugged. "Tough, kid. I got a schedule to keep." The doors snapped shut.

"But—" the boy protested as the vehicle lurched forward. Resigning himself, he stumbled down the aisle of the moving object, looking around.

"Here," Eldarion called, "you can sit with me." The boy stared for a moment, then sat. "Thanks," he said. "You're new, right?"

"Yes," replied Eldarion, looking the boy up and down. Despite the mud, he still was rather good-looking, with solemn yet bright grey eyes and dark hair that fell in spidery bangs about his face. His skin was pale; his garb much like Eldarion's, only his shirt was dark grey and his trousers made of a darker blue fabric. He looked about Eldarion's age, yet something about him—the veiled grief in his eyes?—made him seem older. "How old are you?" Eldarion asked.

" 'm fourteen," the boy responded, wiping mud off his face. "My name's Turin."

Eldarion blinked, his ears obviously playing tricks on him today. "What?" he asked.

"I said I'm Turin. What's your name."

"Eldarion. Um…is Turin a, uh, common name?"

"Huh? I'm the only one I know. The only one Beleg knows too."

"Did you just say Beleg? As in Beleg Cuthalion?" Eldarion's mind was forming a hypothesis about the parallel structure of this world that his common sense was rather reluctant to accept. There was absolutely no way he was sitting next to a version of the Turin Turambar from legend, even if—he regarded the other boy's soiled clothing—this Turin did seem to have the characteristic bad luck. _Other people have been named Turin, _he told himself. _Stop making up all this nonsense. Of course he's not Turambar._

"You know Beleg? I live with his family. He never told me about you. He's the one who missed the bus." Turin began to take more of an interest in his seatmate. "How'd you meet him?"

"I've only heard of him. I'm really sorry he missed the…ah, um…bus. Yes. Bus. You don't live with his family because Easterlings have overrun your homeland, do you?" Eldarion blurted the last sentence on impulse, then regretted it. Whatever Turin's answer was, his reason for asking would be hard to explain.

The dark-haired boy looked at him blankly. "What?"

"Nothing. Just me being a fool. Disregard it. How's your sister?" _Aaugh, I did it again!_ Eldarion groaned inwardly. _You just can't keep your big mouth shut, can you? I was stupid to think I could make it through a day. I can't even make it to wherever we're going._

"How did you know I have a sister?" Turin looked at him suspiciously. "Do you know Nienor? You obviously know _some_body."

"Oh, er…sure. Real cute kid. Blonde, I think. Yes. Did you know it's bad luck to marry somebody with the same hair color as your sister?" Eldarion's mind had shut down completely; he was acting on instinct alone and babbling, lying to a stranger and cautioning him against something he wasn't even sure would happen. He hated himself. _So this is what sleep deprivation does to me, huh? I am never staying up late again._

"Uh…no. I didn't. And I only see her on Christmas and Easter break. But why would you care? It's none of your business." Turin's tone was blunt, his bright eyes kindled into sudden anger.

"You're right," Eldarion apologized. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just really nervous today, that's all. It's all still so new to me."

Turin looked away. "Ahh, don't worry about it." He didn't speak for a few more minutes, so Eldarion used the time to look at the contents of the mystery "bookbag." It contained, along with several weighty tomes of glossy paper full of nonsensical numbers and terms and pictures that looked almost real, a map of some building with several rooms colored in and a list with "Eldarion Telcontar-Grade 9, HR 210, Locker 175, 42-6-28" at the top. The list consisted of a number, a phrase, and another number, then what sounded like a name. Each entry was also colored.

The first item on the list was highlighted in green and said "1. American History. 9. 210. McOlbrich." Looking at the map, Eldarion saw that the room marked "210" was also colored in green. _I get it. Each line has a corresponding room…history is a subject, so it's a list of classes. McOlbrich must be the tutor._

_So what does "Grade 9, Locker 175, 42-6-28" mean?_

The "bus" stopped in front of a large brick building teeming with teens and discharged its human cargo, Eldarion leaving last because he was busy watching everything that was going on with a sense of amazement. _There must be at least a thousand children here, and I bet every one of them but me knows where to go._

Actually, this was not quite true. He noticed many of the younger-looking children—the one about his age—also seemed less than completely sure of themselves. Stepping inside and wandering the bustling hallways, he noticed many children were opening small doors in the walls and placing their belongings within. Intrigued, he walked up to one to get a better look.

"Bug off, freshie!" snapped the user of the tiny closet. "You never seen a kid at his locker before!"

"I apologize," said Eldarion, bowing as he backed away and nearly colliding with a gaggle of girls, who all giggled at him. Looking down at his paperwork, then back up again, he began looking for a little door with a "175" on it. Even if his source had been rather rude to him, at least he'd figured out what a locker was.

He found his locker eventually and tried to open it, but not surprisingly it was true to its name: locked. Inspecting it, he rotated the numbered dial in the center.

"42…6…28." Nothing. _Huh. I was sure that would work._ He turned it in the opposite direction. "42…6…28." Still nothing.

"Hey, runaway!" called a familiar voice behind him. Eldarion turned around. "Hello, Ruki. How are you? Did I get you in trouble? If I did, I am very sorry."

The violet-haired girl shrugged. "I'm grounded. Big deal. I never go anyplace anyway. So…what are you doing here? I mean, you ran away from home! Are you just kind of ignoring that? You're not gonna milk it?"

Not certain why Ruki had randomly brought up cows, Eldarion changed the subject. "I can't get my locker open." She smiled and shook her head. "Freshies. What's your combination?" He handed over the paper; she scanned it, then started turning the knob. "See, you twiddle it clockwise a coupla times, then stop at 42, then go counterclockwise once, stop at 6, then clockwise at 28, and--!" The locker opened. "There you go." Looking down his list as Eldarion placed his bookbag within and took out the book marked "History," she commented, "Hey, cool. You've got history with Carey. Idiot got held back in history. He sucks at it. Don't tell him I told you that."

"I won't." Eldarion took back his papers and closed his locker. "What's a freshie? You're the third person to call me that."

"You don't know…oh, that's right, you're from another country. 'Freshie' means 'freshman.' Ninth grader. I'm a soph. Sophomore. Tenth grader. So's Carey. What country are you from, anyway? I can't place your accent."

"You wouldn't have heard of it." Eldarion looked at his map to try and figure out where room 210 was in relation to where he now stood. "It's called Gondor."

"You're right. No clue. Is that in Europe? You don't look Asian." A beeping noise rang over everything, causing Eldarion to jump and various clusters of people to disperse. Ruki looked up at a plaque on the wall with numbers on it; Eldarion thought, _Everything here is numbers._

"I gotta go," said Ruki. "That's the warning bell. See ya." She walked away. "Good-bye," Eldarion called after her. "Thank you for your help with the locker." _Warning bell? That didn't sound like any bell I've ever heard. Warning of what? Are we in danger?_

Adults began sticking their heads out of doors and yelling at the rushing masses of youth "Hurry up; you're gonna be late!" Eldarion made his way bemusedly to room 210 and entered, then stopped in his tracks.

He'd never seen a room quite like this before. What looked like paper tapestries covered almost every square inch of the wall space. Things were suspended from the ceiling; over Eldarion's head was a piece of thin metal with "COW antenna" written on it. A string of signs hanging near him asked the reader, "What cognizant decisions have you made that have limited your success?" The front part of the room was dominated by a large, cluttered table; smaller tables with chairs attached filled the rest of the floor space in neat rows. Eldarion sat in a vacant seat and looked around, awestruck. Around him, other children filed in and sat, most looking like they were half-asleep and all nonplussed by the busyness adorning the walls.

The "bell" rang again; a tall, graying man with worried eyebrows and spectacles swept into the room, clanging the door shut behind him. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Please turn your attention to the back board and note your responsibilities. By the end of the week, you are to own Chapter One of your text. When I call your name, say 'Here.' Silver, Daniel."

"Here." Eldarion wondered why the students were required to purchase individual chapters of the book when they all seemed bound together.

"Benmir, Caranthir."

Eldarion's head jerked up as a bored-looking boy in completely black clothes sitting across the room from him replied "Here." _Benmir…Caranthir? Carey stands for Caranthir! "Benmir": jewelless. Dispossessed. He's dressed entirely in black…"Dark Caranthir"…"Seven kids in that house, and they're all nuts…"_

"Oh, Elbereth," Eldarion near-swore in disbelief. "It's not possible." As the man (Mr. McOlbrich?) continued calling the roll, Eldarion studied Caranthir more closely. The dark-clothed boy seemed to be permanently sulking; his black glossy hair hung in a tapered fringe on either side of his face and was tied off in the back in a rather flippant-looking ponytail. While not exactly friendly-looking, he didn't look like he was the kinslaying, crazy, oathbound type either, but one never could tell. _Oh, Elbereth,_ he repeated. _Ruki's in love with a son of Feanor._

"Telcontar, EldariON!" Mr. McOlbrich overpronounced the last syllable, causing Eldarion to jump in his seat and tearing his attention away from Caranthir/"Carey". "Here!" he cried nervously, causing several of his peers to snicker quietly. Carey rolled his eyes and sank deeper into his seat, muttering the inevitable semi-complaint "Freshies."

Eldarion had only been a ninth-grader at Endorville High School for forty-five minutes or so, counting the bus ride, and already he hated that that term.

Mr. McOlbrich finished the roll call and adjusted the strip of fabric tied ridiculously tightly around his neck. "Today, ladies and gentlemen, we will be concluding our discussion of native indigenous peoples and begin discussing the Europeans' initial interactions with the North American continent. What have your previous teachers extrapolated about this to you?...Mr. TelconTAR?"

Eldarion blinked, flustered: he had no clue what to say. Finally he said the only thing floating through his head. He knew it was about the stupidest possible sentence to utter, and he knew he would sorely rue it later, but under the circumstances he had no choice. He needed one piece of crucial information.

"Uh, sir…what country are we studying?"

The class erupted into disbelieving laughter; Carey cracked a smile for the first time. Mr. McOlbrich, however, did not smile. "Well. It seems Mr. Telcontar has fallen off the maturation wagon after only three days of high school. You better catch up to that wagon, or it'll leave you in the dust. Now, while he's running after it, who can augment his obviously abysmal knowledge? Mr. BenMIR?"

"America," Carey stated plainly. "That would be why the course is called American History." Eldarion blushed, feeling (rightly so) like an idiot.

"Thank you, sir. Now—" Mr. McOlbrich was interrupted as a droning, nasal female voice began speaking crackily and loudly out of seemingly nowhere.

"ELDARION TELCONTAR, PLEASE REPORT TO THE COUNSELING CENTER." There was a click, and then silence. Everyone looked at Eldarion, who shrugged, picked up his books, and left. He didn't know who was summoning him, or how, or where he was supposed to go, but he was certainly glad to leave 'Room 210, American History' and try to get as far away as possible. _How much more am I not going to know? I need help. Badly…what's a "Counseling Center?"_

Checking his map, he set off down the hall, through a door, down a flight of stairs, through another door, around a bend and up to a heavy wooden door with a plaque next to it marked "Counseling." He opened it and stared, jaw literally dropping for a second.

Legolas Greenleaf stood leaning on a table, arms crossed nonchalantly, waiting for another blonde boy to finish speaking to a middle-sized, middle-aged woman.

"It's like I keep telling you, Mrs. Thomen, I only hit him cos his friend hit me first! You want to give someone detention, give it to just Gimli, he started it." A redhaired, shorter teen stepped forwards; he was obviously attempting to grow his first real beard. This boy sputtered, "Just give it!...You were threatening him!"

The other guy shot him a look that, even to Eldarion, had "you are such a fool" enscripted upon it. "With a blunt arrow. During archery team practice. It didn't mean anything. I was joking around."

"Didn't mean…!"

"Can we not yell, please?" Legolas uncrossed his arms, revealing the slogan 'Skate 4 Life' written brightly across his tunic. "We've already had that fight, remember? And Celegorm said he was sorry."

The other boy whirled around. "Sorry I didn't punch you in your girlie face the minute I first saw it!" Legolas drew himself up, obviously affronted. Eldarion cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to get the lady's attention. "Um, I was called down, my lady…"

She glanced over. "Oh. You're Eldarion? Mr. Stewart wants to see you."

"Lord…?" Eldarion broke off as Faramir appeared in a doorway. "Hello again, Eldarion. Please come in." Passing Legolas, Gimli, and the other blonde—Carey's brother Celegorm, Eldarion realized, who being also a good-looking hunter and the competitive type would naturally consider the Wood-elf a rival—he entered the room where Faramir stood. As he walked by, he noticed something about Legolas that made him do a bit of a double take: Legolas's ears were rounded. Apparently there were no Elves in this world. He couldn't remember from the previous night if his mother's ears had been pointed or not.

Entering the small room, Eldarion sat in a chair Faramir gestured at. The room was mostly taken up by rows of metal cabinets and a large wooden desk where Faramir seated himself after closing the door. There were two small portraits in a frame on the desk; Eldarion looked at them curiously. A boy with a mop of red-gold hair and a girl with sharp blue eyes stared back. The boy he recognized instantly; the girl took him a minute, as her hair in the portrait was light brown and shoulder-length. "Andre and Ruki," he said aloud, pointing.

Faramir smiled. "You recognized her. Not many people do without her dye job. She got it done on the last day of her freshman year, and these were taken last Christmas. But we aren't here to talk about my kids. No, I want to talk about you."

"Me, sir?" Eldarion shifted nervously in the plush chair, sitting up a little straighter. He didn't know what sort of things Faramir would want to know, but he knew the answers would be more than likely unbelievable.

"Yes. As you know, your normal counselor is Mr. Siepen, but since you…ah…appeared at my house last night, I thought maybe it would be better if you talked to me instead."

From that statement Eldarion glommed that Faramir worked here, at this school, with someone named Mr. Siepen, who Eldarion was supposed to know. "Ah," he replied, having nothing else to say.

Faramir seemed to sense his nervousness and smiled again, but this time it was softer. "Don't worry. I'm not going to grill you on why you ran away or lecture you on the dangers of such behavior. You're going through a difficult time and I just wanted to know if you need to talk about anything to anybody, I'm here to help. You can go back to class if you want, but if you need an ear, I'm here. I promise I won't give you any advice unless you ask," he added, holding up his hands palms outward.

Not wanting to return to the insane décor and embarrassment of American History, at least until he'd read some of the accompanying tome, Eldarion decided to trust Faramir. To a degree. After all, in Middle-earth he was a good and caring Steward. Everyone loved him. If there was one person who would honestly want to help Eldarion, it would be Faramir. "Yes. Well…I just want to forget I ever ran away. It was a huge mistake. I just got so frustrated, having to leave my home against my will and surrounded by people I barely know. Now I've left all my friends, an entire way of life. I just want everything to go back to the way it was. Here it's all so confusing, and I've made such a fool of myself. There's nothing you can do to help, I don't think, but that's just because I don't know what exactly I need. My apologies if that's hard to understand, but it's the truth." _Or a rather creative version of it, anyway._

"I understand." Faramir nodded. "Well, these things just take time. You'll get used to it here, and you'll make friends quickly. The only advice I can give you is—do you want advice?" Eldarion nodded, and the Steward/counselor resumed speaking. "All I can advise you is to find someone to talk to. Not me; I'm an outsider in your life; but a parent, or a special friend. Someone you can trust with your secrets and frustrations. A shoulder to cry on. A person to confide in. Do you think there's someone like that in your life?"

Eldarion looked down, away from Faramir's eyes, and his own gaze rested on an oval portrait displayed on the desk. Staring back at him was someone who'd taken him in on nothing but a statement and trust, who even after he got her in trouble went out of her way to greet and help him. With a sudden sense of surety—perhaps it was a half-elven sort of foresight—he knew he could trust her absolutely in return.

"Yes, sir," Eldarion replied finally as he stared at the picture of Faramir's daughter, "I believe there is."

A/n: I have reviews now! I'm surprised no one has flamed me yet for not updating for months.

Mirowood: I think I already explained this…Eowyn had purple hair in the dream because Eldarion was shocked by Ruki's spiky violet 'do. I'm dreading the day he discovers anime; he'll probably be traumatized and I'll have to get him counseling. I know a Support Group he could join…but it might not adequately meet his needs.

Dalamar Nightson: Thank you for your compliments about my characterization of Eldarion! I can do pretty much whatever I want with him, as Tolkien only mentioned him in passing, so I'm trying really hard to make him a real, likeable albeit flawed kid. He's gotta work on that tactless streak before become King. And to answer your question, no one has heard of LOTR or Silm. They also think nothing of weird names, being parallel-universe people, so in that regard Eldarion is actually quite lucky. In fact, the most out-of-place-sounding names in good ol' Endorville USA are "Andre" and "Ruki" and most of the adults at Eldarion's school (also named for Blind Guardian members…I need a life, I need a life, I need a life…)


	5. Who Knows, Part Two

This chapter is mostly dialogue; I don't like it that much, but just be patient…

I reeeeaaaallly hope everyone reading this knows the Silmarillion fairly well or else not much of this will make sense…

Replies to reviews are at the end again…

I own nothing, nothing at all…

Chapter Five: Who Knows, Part Two

Ruki gasped for air as Eldarion finished his strange tale, in shock or excitement or both; the half-elf couldn't tell. Turin, who was also sitting at the lunch table, remained seemingly passive, but the purple-haired girl more than compensated for his apparent nonchalance.

"No way. No. WAY. You're joking. You're being silly. You've got a weird sense of humor." Eldarion stared at her like he had the night they met, and again the stare convinced her. "Oh God. No you're not. You…oh God, it even makes sense in a psycho sort of way! You were speaking a different language last night, and you had weirdo feudal clothes on, and you couldn't use a phone and didn't know what a car was and drove Andre batty with the lightswitch and, oh God, you're from another freakin' dimension! Oh, God! Oh, GOD!"

"Yes! You've already said that! Several times!" Eldarion was amused, annoyed, and overjoyed at the same time. "But you believe me?"

"I shouldn't. But I do. Oh God. Either I'm nuts, or you're nuts, or heck, let's just say we're all nuts!" She pounded the table, making several people at other tables turn and stare for a brief moment. "Let me get one thing straight. My mom and dad are also from your place?"

Eldarion nodded. "Your father is my father's Steward. My father is the King and my mother is an elf. Look. See?" He held up his hair so she could see his ears. "They've been that way since birth. One round, one pointed. Actually make me feel rather silly. A bit lopsided." Ruki tugged on his pointed ear as he spoke. "Woah," she said. "Cool, man. Can you do magic?"

"Huh?" Eldarion was startled by the question, then grew even more startled as Turin spoke for the first time.

"So why do you have a home here? Wouldn't there be another Eldarion if your parents are here?"

"I don't really know. I don't know how any of this works. All I know is my family is here and there, and so is Ruki's, and so are, well, were the Benmirs…"

"Carey? No way. Sweet. Hey, what do you mean, were?" Ruki leaned on the table, head propped attentively on her fists.

"That's another thing I don't understand. Feanor and his seven sons are a part of Middle-earth's history and legends. They're from a very long time ago, so they shouldn't be here now, and especially not as children." Eldarion turned to Turin. "And you…you're a legend too. Far before my time."

"I am?" Turin seemed like he was uncomfortable but tried not to let it show. "What…what does it say?"

Opening his mouth and then closing it again, Eldarion grappled for the right things to say, a version of the Narn î Hin Hurin that wouldn't leave Turin angry, depressed, insulted, or a combination of all three. Finally he chose his words carefully and replied, "Turin Turambar was a great hero who slew a mighty dragon. Beleg Cuthalion was an Elf and his best friend. Oftentimes Turin felt cursed, but he pressed ever onward…until the moment of his death." He finished silently, but Turin heard him. "How," the other boy asked, grey eyes leveled and intense, "did he die?"

Eldarion swallowed, settling for a half-truth. "He finally met an enemy who he could not defeat, but even though he died, he slew his enemy as well."

"So…he died defeating his worst enemy." It was a little scary how Turin could go so long without blinking. Andre's blank expressions seemed paltry in comparison.

"Yes," Eldarion replied simply, then added "…and gladly did his black sword drink the blood of his foe." _You idiot!_ he told himself. _That's what, at least the third time today? I may have to procure a gag for myself; I'd look like a fool but at least it'd keep me out of trouble._

Turin leaned so far forward that Eldarion could practically feel the other boy's breath against his own cheek. "Listen. I don't know what is wrong with you, but I can't think of a reason for you to make up a stupid story like this and then tell total strangers, so, if you're telling the truth, tell me this. Who was it? Who killed him?"

_I knew I'd said too much. Now what am I going to tell him? Not the literal truth. Morgoth, maybe? He cursed Hurin's house…No. No. I can't say anything._ "I…I can't say."

Turin grabbed Eldarion's arm. "Why not?...Is it someone who also exists here? Just tell me _that_ at least!" Quiveringly, Eldarion nodded. Turin let go of him and leaned back in his chair. "Why am I even listening to you?" he asked aloud. "What does it matter what some new kid makes up to get attention?"

Eldarion hadn't known how much his honor meant to him until it was thus wounded, and he was more than a little surprised at how much it hurt. "Then you don't believe me? Are you…are you calling me a liar?" _I'm not a liar. Am I? I don't know…_

"I don't know." Echoing Eldarion's thoughts, Turin didn't look at him. "I don't know what to think."

"Well, I do!" Ruki stood up and angrily faced Turin. "Sure he sounds crazy! It's nuts. They've packed people off to the loony bins for less. But I'll give him this. If it's all a ploy, some sick method of sounding important, or an elaborate fantasy over the denial of somethin', then he deserves to have at least one gullible idiot like me believing him because he is putting on one HECK of an act. You weren't there last night, Mr. Dark and Mopey. You didn't see how this guy acted, how he behaved, all the stupid stuff he said and did. If this is all a lie, he deserves an Oscar for his performance because he is the best freakin' actor I have ever seen in my entire life!"

Eldarion was so stunned by this semi-insulting-yet-also-strangely-in-his-favor outburst that the only cognizant thought that formed in his brain was that Ruki certainly liked Carey well enough, but from what he'd seen Carey also could qualify for the position of "Mr. Dark and Mopey." "Ruki…I…I don't know what to say."

"Then you keep your big mouth shut, you hear?" The now-familiar bell rang once again, and as Eldarion joined the rushing crowd (without taking one bite of his so-called lunch; he strongly suspected it had been moving of its own free will on his plate while he talked) Ruki leaned close and muttered, "Don't let that jerk tick you off too bad. Whatever reason you had for telling him, it ain't worth it. Just leave it all to me. I've got a plan."

For some reason, as he walked to his next class, that last statement made Eldarion more worried than relieved.

He was even more uncomfortable when he located his "last period" classroom, in a wing marked "Art," and saw that Turin was already seated at one of the tables. Nervously Eldarion walked over and sat down. "Hi." It was a shortened greeting he'd picked up easily after hearing it all day. "My apologies if I…disturbed you during lunch. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me."

Turin still wouldn't meet his gaze directly, a strange change in behavior for him. "Why did you tell me?" he asked quietly. "I don't even know you."

"You're right. I don't. But I…" Eldarion looked away too, only down at the table instead of out into space. "…I knew it sounded insane, but I also knew you were trustworthy."

Turin grunted derisively. "How? We met _today._"

"I told you, you're in a legend. I knew from the legend you were not the kind to willingly betray a trust." _Though what you might do unwittingly or in the heat of battle is another matter. I just knew you to be a person of pity and compassion within your hardened exterior. Was I wrong?_

"Will you shut up about the stupid legend thing?" Turin snapped as other children filed in. "You know nothing about me. Nothing!"

Something kindled inside Eldarion, and pushing his chair back he stood, just as Ruki had. "Oh, no?" he countered, daring Turin to do he knew not what. "We'll see!"

Once class started and they were at work painting, Eldarion leaned over the table and defended his honor, word, and knowledge of lore in a steady stream of information. "Your parents' names are Morwen and Hurin but you don't live with them. You gave away a knife you received as a birthday present. Beleg Cuthalion would follow you anywhere. Someone named Saeros doesn't like you. You have a crippled friend called Sador. You…your sister Urwen died when you were younger, and you always used to call her Lalaith…"

Turin's hand jerked, knocking paint all over his picture. "Shut up. Just…shut up." His voice was shaking and his face twisted with anger, but as he looked up for the first time Eldarion saw not tears of rage but of grief glistening in his bright, cold eyes. "You've made your point, okay? I believe you. You win. Just…never say that again." Getting up, he moved to sit with another boy, one at work on a masterpiece. "Hey, Curufin."

"Hey." Sitting down, Turin bumped the boy's arm. "Sorry." The boy—Curufin Benmir, Eldarion thought tiredly; was he going to encounter every member of the House of Feanor before leaving school today?—shot him a look and slid his chair and work farther from Turin. Eldarion looked back at his own picture, also shaking and angry—at himself. "Fool," he spat to himself in a whisper. "You said that just to spite him. What if someone did a similar thing to you? Now he believes you, but he also hates you. Well done. Turin Turambar the Mormegil is your enemy. Eldarion Telcontar, I don't like you very much today."

He was too upset to do any significant work on his painting, and he wasn't even glad to see Ruki as she elbowed her way to his side in the hall after the final bell, dragging behind her a short boy with a tousled head of dark brown hair. "Hey, Eldarion! You make it okay?"

"Not now, Ruki, please. I don't understand anything and I just want to get out of here." Expertly he approached his locker and opened it, his fingers already deftly operating the deal and stopping automatically at the right places.

Ruki persisted; the boy fidgeted, shifting a thick red notebook from one hand to another. "I know," she said. "I know you don't get it. That's what he's for." She jerked her thumb back at the short boy.

Eldarion looked skeptically at her while loading down his backpack. "I'm not following your logic."

"Well, you need an Earth tutor, right? Somebody to get you up to speed and stuff? Well, I got you the best one in the business. Andre's friend—I told Andre, by the way, I hope you don't mind, but nobody else, I swear, not even _him_ yet!" Another thumb jerk towards the seemingly nameless boy. "Anyway, he's a genius. Anything you want to know, he can tell you, and he's an all-around great guy too!"

Feeling it would be proper, Eldarion shook the boy's hand like he had seen others do and smiled. The boy grinned back, brilliantly blue eyes dancing as he shifted his red notebook again and took Eldarion's hand. "Nice to meet you, Eldarion. I'm Frodo Baggins."

a/n: Okay, not that long a chapter this time. The next one's insane, though…really long, with a lot more cameos. Poor little Eldarion. He can't do anything right, can he? And he's trying so hard, too…these things take time, my little halfblood prince. (yeah, yeah, bad joke, I know…and his pedigree is actually far more complex.)

Review replies:

o-Vana-o0: You call him 'Dari? That's so cute! I've been referring to him in my story notes as elda…but I may have to switch. Glad you liked my alternate/parallel universe…it just gets weirder. And fear not, everybody's favorite oathbound genius is coming soon to a story near you…

sqrt(-1): You are totally right about the "glommed" thing. It doesn't fit. In fact, I looked it up in the dictionary and it wasn't even there. I made up a word and didn't know it. As per your Luthien and Thingol question…wait and see. Thanks, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Dalamar Nightson: No DL after this (except maybe tiny little tongue-in-cheek cameos). Eldarion does spend most of his time confused, doesn't he? Lucky for him he's a fast learner. Hope you liked this chapter, and can't wait for the next one in Tale of Two Worlds!

Yael3000-who-has-since-undergone-an-identity-crisis-and-is-now-romancebookwormlover4ever: Sorry if I insulted you with the freshie thing; I hate that term too (which is why Eldarion hates it). And yes, you are a soph now. I haven't even started the WIRC list yet; I've been too busy with my job and camp. But I do have a plan for how club officers are going to operate next year! And I had your IS teacher; he's not that bad. I liked him.

Mirowood: No, my teacher was decidedly anti-hippie. The man tied his ties so tight it's a miracle he didn't strangle himself. As for the other teachers…we only meet one more, and he's a LOTR cameo. (at least, we meet him if I can fit him in) And the Legolas thing was inspired by a story on here called "Hour of our Meeting," right down to the slogan on his shirt. Talk to you sometime soon?

Well, that's it for me now. This actually took far less time to type than I thought, so maybe I'll be able to post another chapter or two both of this and of "All I Want" before the summer ends and my life becomes way too overscheduled. TTFN!


	6. Who Knows, Part Three

Wow, I thought I'd never get this far…after this, I only have one more chapter pre-written (although the whole thing's outlined somewhere; I just have to find it)

Review replies are at the end. Thank you so much, all my reviewers! It really makes my day to check my email and see people are reading what I've written…and gives me an idea what people like.

Nothing is mine but Ruki and Andre, and even they have pilfered names.

Two Story Town, Chapter Six: Who Knows, Part Three

Frodo leaned over Eldarion's math homework, watching Eldarion scribble furiously with an air of patient observation. "Carry the negative sign," he said, pointing, then took a bite of his sandwich. "Ugh. Tuna. I told Bilbo no more fish, but he forgets."

"So pack your own lunch. Or buy." Andre crumpled his potato chip bag into a ball and dropped it onto Eldarion's tray.

Ruki grinned. "Yeah. Be like me. Mountain Dew and a chocolate chip cookie. Want a piece?" Frodo shook his curly head. She sighed nonchalantly and crammed the rest of the aforementioned confection into her mouth. "Oh well. Your loss," she said between bites. "Mmm-mm. Cafeterias will have to fall far indeed before they screw up junk food."

"Do you mind!" Eldarion finally burst out, half-annoyed. "I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Chill," Andre replied simply. Eldarion gave him a blank yet incredulous stare. "I'm a perfectly normal temperature, thank you," he replied. "And I'm not really angry, Ruki," he told Andre's twin. "I just…you don't know what this past week has been like." He was slightly in shock over how much information he'd learned in the little more than a week he'd been in "Endorville." To make up for his lack of pregained knowledge, he and Frodo had undergone a series of heavy-duty tutoring afternoons, culminating in a "Labor Day" (whatever that was) weekend almost completely devoted to studying. Most of the material he now found fascinating, absorbing his history textbook like a sponge and in awe of the discoveries of "Earth Science." Even the "English" wasn't too bad; it was just analysis. But the math…

"Frodo," he said, turning to his tutor and putting down his pencil (mechanical pencils fascinated him to no end; he thought the idea was very clever), "I just don't see the point. My apologies, but who _cares_ what 'x' equals? The fact that someone figured out these rules work is incredible, but that person must have been really bored." Sarcasm was one trait of "American" teenagers he'd almost fully grasped at this point; life with the Stewart siblings did that to a person. He'd seen them almost every day at lunch, which is where they now all were seated, trying to eat and teach him algebra at the same time.

Turin had found somewhere else to sit; Eldarion didn't know where. They hadn't spoken since that first day, and Turin seemed to be consciously avoiding Eldarion, who felt absolutely terrible. Every time he rode the bus he contemplated approaching the black-haired boy and apologizing, but never mustered the courage for shame. Even if he did apologize, there was no way Turin could forgive him. He'd used his knowledge of Turin's life to hurt him, at least partially aware of what he was doing, and such an abuse was inexcusable. He just counted himself lucky Turin hadn't sought revenge; the other boy had probably figured if he sought to hurt Eldarion somehow, Eldarion would bounce right back with more private information.

Whatever the reason, Eldarion was glad Turin wasn't his out-and-out enemy. He was busy enough as it was, and thanked the Valar every night for Frodo Baggins. Frodo was the ideal tutor—thoughtful, patient, an excellent explainer and a loyal friend—not to mention a figure Eldarion had since young boyhood idolized. The hobbit called Frodo had sailed years before Eldarion's birth, but the stories and songs of the Nine-fingered Ring-bearer lived on still in Gondor, a modern legend and a hero for the fledgling Age. To be his pupil, even though he wasn't technically the same Frodo, was to Eldarion both an honor and a privilege, not to mention enjoyable.

It had taken effort on both their parts, however, to get Eldarion as "Earth-savvy" as possible; Frodo was not a miracle worker. Eldarion had worked long and hard with the short boy's undivided attention, and the former thought that doubtlessly the latter's other friends must feel rejected. This suspicion was confirmed with the advent of three new figures to the table.

A skinny, nearly emaciated boy rushed up and pounced on Frodo, hugging him furiously. "We finds him, we finds him, oh yes we does! Sam! Rosie! We is finding the nasty cruel deserter! Where has you been?"

"Tutoring Eldarion here," Frodo replied, laughing but nonetheless prying himself free of the skinny boy's grasp. "Eldarion, this is Smeagol. He was new last year, and…"

"Frodo was our firstest friend here, oh yes precious he was. No one else would talk to us, because we doesn't speak too well and we is always so sick, we has allergies…" As if to prove his point, Smeagol broke off, coughing in a way that sounded strangely like "gollum, gollum." When he'd recovered, he continued speaking. "And the other children is always making fun of us because of our conditionses, picking on poor Smeagol. But not Frodo! Frodo is acting nicely to us, so we is considering Frodo our best friend, we is. Frodo makeses such a good friend…is that a _fish_ sandwich, precious? Smeagol's grandmother forgetses to pack a lunch for poor Smeagol, and he hates nasty cafeteria food."

"Tuna," Frodo replied resignedly. "Chow down." Smeagol nearly attacked it, devouring the sandwich ravenously as two other kids sidled up, both also eating.

"Hello, Sam," Eldarion said without thinking; in protest of the absolute strangeness of the situation, his mind had shut down somewhere in the middle of Smeagol's speech. "Hello, Rosie."

They stared. "Do we know you?" asked Sam, his mouth full of potatoes.

"No," said Eldarion, thinking fast to make up for his earlier slip, "but Frodo's talked so much about his friends I figured you had to be them." Frodo gave him a look but said nothing. Andre was watching Smeagol with something akin to an actual facial expression; it remotely resembled either disgust or what Ruki called "being freaked out."

His explanation satisfied the two newcomers, and they sat down. "Hi Ruki," Sam said. "Hey Andre. You've both met Rosie, right?"

Apparently Ruki hadn't. "Hey. So you're his girl, huh?" The curly-haired girl giggled and nodded. "Sweet."

A commotion at the other end of the cafeteria broke off all conversation (thankfully; Eldarion could think of nothing to say to Smeagol) as Carey Benmir jumped out of his seat and ran out of the lunchroom, blazing right past the teacher on "door duty" who supposedly kept students in. Celegorm and Curufin soon followed; Maglor, it seemed, did not eat this lunch (Eldarion had never seen him either) and neither Maedhros nor the twins were high-schoolers. "Huh?" asked Ruki, standing up. "What? Hey, you! Over there, at Carey's table!"

To Eldarion's dread and despair, Turin responded to her call, walking over. "Yeah?" he asked, his eyes snapping for a split second onto Eldarion and then off again.

Ruki pointed to the door. "Carey. What got into him?"

Turin stuffed his hands into his pockets. "He got a call on his cell phone. Apparently his oldest brother, the one in college, works in this factory with his half-cousin to make some extra money and…there was an accident."

Smeagol's mouth fell open in mid-bite (he had moved on, unbidden, to the rest of Frodo's lunch); Frodo closed it for him. Ruki thumped back down into her seat, the expression of shock on her face mirroring everyone's except her brother's, who merely looked interested. "Oh, no _way._"

The history lover in Eldarion forced itself past the little inaccuracies and arrived at a likely possible outcome. "He won't die, Ruki, if that's what you're worried about." Gently he touched her shoulder. "He'll lose a hand, though."

Turin looked straight at him. So did Ruki. "Really?" she asked in a shaking voice. "But he'll be…okay otherwise?"

"More or less." Eldarion shrugged. "I suppose people don't really walk around here hanging each other off of mountains, do they?"

"I missed something," Rosie stated flatly as the bell rang and the masses of teenagers seethed out, Eldarion's slightly shell-shocked table joining the throng. As he fought his way to the door, Eldarion found himself next to Turin. "Hi," he said. Turin said nothing, but he did nod in recognition. Eldarion hoped that was progress.

Math class came and went, leaving Eldarion still in the dark as to why anyone would care what 'x' equaled, if Carey's brother was all right, and how he, Eldarion, would survive without committing verbal suicide if Gollum started frequenting his lunch table. Knowing so much about Smeagol, but not knowing how much applied in this world, made the situation extremely awkward and more than a little, to use a Ruki word, "weird."

Soon it was the final period, Eldarion's only class besides History with a son of Feanor, and he wondered if it would be polite to ask Curufin what the situation was. He sat, unsure, as Curufin came in and sat down, the latter reading something on the screen of what Ruki had told Eldarion was called a "cell phone." _Text message,_ he thought, proud that he'd remembered the term.

As Turin entered, Curufin stood up and spoke to him quietly, Turin nodding sporadically. Finally Turin smiled, then came over to Eldarion and sat down facing him. Eldarion gulped audibly.

"Well," said Turin, folding his hands on the table.

"Well," repeated Eldarion, uncertain what this confrontation meant and trying to assemble his apology in his mind properly. He decided to begin with some off-hand Earth jargon. "What's…uh…up?"

Turin spoke quietly but distinctly. "Curufin's brother Maedhros was extracted from the machine by his friend and half-cousin Fingon. His entire body was unharmed except…" he paused "…his right hand was so badly mangled they amputated it at the hospital." His voice grew even softer. "You were right. You were right about him." Softer still. "And you were right about me." Louder. "I guess you are the real deal, huh."

"Look," Eldarion protested, "I really am sorry about that. I wanted to tell you earlier, but—I just hate what I did. And I won't be completely right all the time, either; things aren't completely parallel. Fingon is supposed to cut off Maedhros's hand because it's the only way to free Maedhros from captivity. And you…you aren't supposed to have ever met Nienor….but it's really fortunate you have…anyway, not everything's the same. It's just…similar. I don't know for sure what's going to happen to you. I don't even know what's going to happen to me! What do you think it's like, being trapped in a world you don't understand where nobody is quite right, but similar enough to make you stare? I've been in a pretty bad mood, I'll admit that, but that's no excuse for what I did to you. Please, please believe me when I say I'll do anything to make it up to you. Turin, I really am sorry."

Turin's eyes softened. "I know," he said in the same soft tone. "I've known since that first day, when you kept looking at me. I just couldn't say anything, because—"he looked down, his voice breaking "—because every time I saw you, I thought of Lalaith. I've been trying not to think about that for years, and then…It was just hard."

"Oh, Turin," sighed Eldarion in a sympathetic groan. "I'm really—"

"I heard you the first time," the dark-haired boy said; then as class began, he changed the subject. "So. Are you really, uh…"

"Always this tactless? Regrettably, yes." Eldarion got supplies for both of them, then sat down.

"Idiot," Turin replied, but he was smiling. "I was going to say, are you really half-elf?" He fetched Eldarion's painting when he went to get his own off the drying rack.

Eldarion picked up a brush. "I showed you my ears, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah. Still."

"To answer your question, yes, I'm really half-elf. On my mother's side." He laughed a little. "I used to try to sleep with one eye open and one eye closed."

"What? Why?" Turin spilled his paint. "Drat."

"Elves sleep with their eyes open, so I figured I'd sleep with one eye open and one eye closed."

"Do you?"

Eldarion grinned sheepishly. "No…I sleep with both half-open."

Turin laughed, a real laugh. "Shut up."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think? Be quiet, or I don't believe you, stuff like that." Turin rolled his eyes, then looked at him, thoughtful. "Hey. Who are you, really?"

It was quite a loaded question and Eldarion had to pause and think before answering. "I'm not really certain. I'm a prince at home, preparing himself to be the servant of the people, but here I'm just another boy."

"No you're not. You're different." Turin looked him in the eyes. "You're something no one but Beleg's been for a long time. You're my friend."

a/n: Yeah, yeah, sappy cheesy, I know I know I know. So sue me. (Speaking of Sues, I hope no one thinks Ruki is one, because I am really trying to avoid that sort of thing, but it's getting harder, especially in the next trilogy of stories…more on that later.)

Review replies:

**Romancebookworm4ever: **You know, I really don't know about the costume thing; I think it would be fun to go in costume, but I don't want people to think we work for the fair or anything. (this, btw, is in response to your review marked ch. 2)

**Mirowood:** No, my life has been plain bloody busy! Anyway, we talked last weekend, so that's good…hope this lived up to your expectations…

**Crecy:** Yep, Frodo…and everything that comes with him! Hopefully you liked this chapter, even though he didn't talk much, he mostly just got hugged and deprived of his lunch…he'll keep popping up to help poor Eldarion adjust.

That's all for now. Join us next time for "American Pie," the third of five chapter trilogies, in which Eldarion discovers his inner headbanger (sort of) and has to deal with his first real crush. Unfortunately, the girl who likes him isn't the girl he likes, and his chosen lady already has a boyfriend…who has several easily provoked brothers and one seriously unstable father...you asked for more of them, you got them. It's fun with the Benmirs in Chapter Seven of "Two Story Town!" See you then!


End file.
